


put it in drive

by soldierwitch



Series: Nomad [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwitch/pseuds/soldierwitch
Summary: Love is a dark-haired man with a chip on his shoulder. Clarke knows because she tasted him on the tip of her tongue, pressed his essence into her mouth and swallowed.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Nomad [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759048
Kudos: 17





	put it in drive

**Author's Note:**

> This bit of Nomad is from Clarke's perspective. I was really interested in playing with language particularly the imagery of food as a line into Clarke's hunger for Bellamy, her desire to be with him again. As I said in the notes for ain't no such thing, this series is very much experimental. While that drabble was exploring use of color, this one is an exploration of a different sort. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
>  _Put it in drive, I'll be outside, I'll be on the way  
>  I'll be on the way  
> You can meet me in five, I'll be all night, I'll be a-all day  
> I'll be a-all day  
> Put it in drive, I'll be outside, I'll be on the way  
> I'll be on the way  
> You can meet me in five, I'll be all night, I'll be all day  
> I'll be all day_  
> OTW - Khalid ft. Ty Dolla $ign and 6LACK

Love is a dark-haired man with a chip on his shoulder. Clarke knows because she tasted him on the tip of her tongue, pressed his essence into her mouth and swallowed. Only love tastes as sweet as it is bitter. Only love would have her weaving in and out of traffic, speeding on the straight ways, back to the man she left.

Leaving had made sense at the time. She was a drifter. She’d stay in a city long enough to sample its food and its people, earn a bit of cash, and then bounce. But a month turned into two, then into three because she’d grown addicted to the candy red of his affections. His eyes softened like chocolate around her. His hands kneaded her, fingers pressing into her flesh deliciously, leaving plum colored bruises on her hips.

Clarke had grown accustomed to being marked and marking in return. It sat in the mean curve of her lips before she’d bite him, his skin flushing pink as an apple. In Arkadia, she’d learned that there was something to belonging to a person. But drifter’s have no home but themselves, and who’s to say the home she’d found in him would last, so she left. Better to leave something while it was still good instead of standing in the wreckage of it, smelling the soured love in the ashes. Or so she thought.

Months passed on the road. Clarke stopped in countless cities, met interesting people, and yet his name stayed on her lips. She saw him in everything and everyone. She ate and she thought of him; she slept and she dreamed of him. Her body missed the slide of his hands over her curves, the way he plied her so sweetly that she’d blossom in his palms. The night she woke up aching with a tart taste in her mouth, she made the decision to go back to him, to go back home.

Returning feels weak in the face of the strength it took to leave, but better to be weak than miserable. Clarke has no ego to deflate. She only has a desire to once again taste love and the bloom of it on her tongue. To lick the freckles that dot his skin like perfect crystals of brown sugar. To smell him and feel her toes curl as the scent of spice wraps around her.

Clarke knows that stepping onto his welcome mat and ringing his doorbell won’t suddenly reverse the hands of time, but she’ll settle for seeing his brown eyes, for being in his proximity. And when he opens the door, she’ll try not to look like a starving woman, desperate for another taste. Still, she can hear it as as she says, “Bellamy,” her mouth watering at the sight of him.

For Clarke, home is a person whose affection she craves and whose love she hopes she hasn’t lost. Home is the taste of a man whose entire being is synonymous with love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated.


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